New Times
by storm173
Summary: Set after season 4. What changes downstairs and how developes the Carson/Hughes relationship after the beach scene?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Changes

Change had come upon Downton after the London season. Not the sort of huge change like a wedding, a birth or a death would course, but people had left and others had arrived. New faces refreshed the always busy live downstairs, struggling at first with the strict and exhausting life that being a servant was, but with a little help of Carson's lectures about standards and property, Mrs. Hughes comforting words to ease homesickness and Mrs. Patmore's sarcastic comments about all sorts of things they soon got used to certain standards and rules, knowing exactly what to do and when to do it.

The family had returned to Downton the exact same time as the year before and the year before that. However the return of the staff had been quite different. With Carson and Mrs. Hughes both been gone the house wasn't as well prepared as usual, so it was actually true to call the two days before the Crawleys moved back in a fiasco. On one hand Mrs. Hughes, still somewhat relaxed and satisfied after that day on the beach and the new gained experience of a busy, but enjoyable London season, had no problems with making sure her maids worked hard and well. On the other hand, Carson slammed doors and shouted at the hallboys who in fact did their jobs as best as they could, but not fast enough in Carson's opinion who always worried about sloppy presentation.

Therefore on Mrs. Hughes part was a lot of eye rolling going on, while Carson was close to working himself into a heart attack. Once or twice, after a heated discussion with Carson in his pantry or her sitting room, she simply raised her hands in defeat and sent a sigh accompanied by an exasperated look to the ceiling. Anyways, the house was in perfect state when the Earl and his family came back home and things started getting back to normal. There were fewer arguments fought between butler and housekeeper. Carson's face stopped being all time reddened. Mrs. Hughes stopped being all time worried about his health.

And right then the changes had started. First Ivy had left for New York. Mrs. Hughes had been as surprised as Carson when Mrs. Patmore told them the tale of Mr. Levinson's growing fondness of Daisy's cooking, his offer being brought to her by his valet, – Carson sighed theatrically at his mentioning – Daisy turning him down and Ivy stepping in, having the chance of her life time as she had described it. Carson hadn't commented the subject further while Mrs. Hughes had only had an "I hope that girl knows what she's doing" to add. Mrs. Patmore had of course wanted to hire a new kitchen maid and that had been the first new arrival. Sophie Hobbs was a young lass of sixteen from York. Her parents both worked in a factory. She had no siblings. Apparently her parents wanted her to have a safe future which a position at a huge estate such as Downton could offer. Sophie was working hard, being a right hand to both, Mrs. Patmore and Daisy. Mrs. Hughes was glad that the girl kept her distance from James unlike Ivy had done. She didn't look for trouble. Even Carson thought after only a few weeks that she belonged at Downton.

The next change hadn't been as unexpected as the first. Molesley wasn't a footman. He was a good worker, but not a footman. When the Dowager's butler Sprat retired, Molesley put in his notice to work in a position that suited him far better than the one he had had at Downton. Carson was relieved to have gotten rid of him since he had been _forced_ to hire him. Now he had to find a proper replacement. He picked a lad of nineteen called Raff Steward. He was from Lancaster. His father had died in the war, his mother afterwards. He had lived with his aunt and uncle. Carson had hired him for he saw potential and discipline. Mrs. Hughes didn't question Carson's decision, but worried about the lad who seemed to feel lonely.

Upstairs things remained mainly the same. Of course Edith was still trying to find out what had happened to Michael and with the baby so close she couldn't help, but pop by now and then, no matter the risk. Mary tried to focus on estate business, her thoughts wandering to Charles and Tony from time to time. Tom avoided Sarah to stop the nasty rumour that had spread. Cora and Robert were busy with being grandparents and Lord and Lady Grantham. Rose used every opportunity to visit London. Isobel visited regularly to see her grandson and to avoid Lord Merton who came to the village quite often, not stopping his attempts to court her. And Violet still disliked Americans.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Happy memories

When Mrs. Patmore headed upstairs to bed it was close to midnight. She and Mrs. Hughes had had a little chat over a cup of tea since Carson had turned the housekeeper down.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes, but I have quite a lot of work to finish for tomorrow" he had said.

She had nodded and left his pantry. Mrs. Patmore had sent Daisy and Sophie to bed, so Mrs. Hughes had started a conversation. They had barely talked since London so it was now or never.

After Mrs. Patmore had left, Mrs. Hughes had the intention to go to bed too, but then she spotted the light that gleamed to the hall from under Carson's pantry door. She sighed. He shouldn't be working at this hour. There was a soft knock before she entered. He sat at his desk still going through the wine ledgers. He looked up shortly. "I thought you were already in bed" he said.

"I would be there by now if I hadn't seen the light coming from your pantry" she replied. "Mr. Carson, whatever you are doing, I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow."

He raised his eyebrows at her, sighed, took a final look at the book in front of him and then closed it. "You may be right, Mrs. Hughes" he admitted. He didn't listen to her often when she tried to drag him away from working, but now he accompanied her upstairs. Their hands brushed lightly at the top of the stairs and the touch reminded her of the beach. She had held his hand, knowing that he wasn't ready for moving on. Making peace with Grigg and Alice had been the first step and the second was to give him time and show him that he could trust her not only as a colleague and friend, but as a woman. They bit each other a good night at the door that separated the women's from the men's quarters and went to bed. While Mrs. Hughes changed into her night dress she thought of all the times Carson's stern façade had fallen and she had gotten a glance at the long forgotten Charlie. When he had told her that the Crawleys were the only family he got she hadn't been in love with him yet. Or at least she hadn't known. She had felt sorry for him. His look, his reaction had shown her that he sometimes felt lonely. She had realized afterwards that not only she thought of the youngsters downstairs as children, but that he did the same. He cared for William, Daisy and Anna just like she did. During the war she had seen it even more than before.

The war. That awful time when she had worried about everything, but mainly him. He had worked too much. His health had been damaged. When he had had that attack she had feared for his life. And that was when she knew she loved him. Strange that the fear of losing someone revealed the true feelings one hadn't realized before. But then one could never love someone so much as one could miss him. And then he had wanted to leave for Haxby. Her whole world broke down at that point. She had thought that this would be the end of the relationship they shared, but in fact it had been a beginning.

_"__Don't tell me you'll miss me."_

_"__I will, Mr. Carson. Very much. And it costs me nothing to say it."_

_"__Thank you. That means a lot to me."_

For her that was enough proof that there was a chance for them. That maybe, somehow, one day they could be together. The war had changed many things, even Carson. His mothering her when she thought she had cancer, his singing when she hadn't, his accepting of her getting involved with Grigg after his first anger had vanished. Proof, all of it. All those memories, many of them very happy memories indeed. A bride smile spread across her lips when she thought of him at the beach. And with that in mind she fell asleep, dreaming of what would have happened if he had fallen over, taking her with him.

Carson was uncomfortable in his small bed. His pocket watch was lying on his bedside cabinet, ticking loudly. Well, not that loud, but the heavy silence that surrounded him made him hear it louder. He was desperate to get some rest, but how was he supposed to sleep while his brain decided to go over and over certain things again and again? He spent so much time thinking these days that he wondered when it would make him sick. He hated it when his head sent him miles away, backwards in time. The past didn't, shouldn't matter that much to him. Why was he still going on about Alice and Grigg and that other live he could have lived? What was the point? It left him frustrated and angry. The longer he thought about it the clearer it became to him that he didn't wish to have gone another way. Instead of a wife he had his job, instead of own children he had the youngsters up- and downstairs, instead of a shop he had Downton. He had a family here, didn't he? He was happy here, wasn't he? There were so many memories connecting him to the place. Most of them much happier than the few he had of his life on the stage. It wasn't like he regretted this part of his life. It had been a necessary experience to develop from a young and foolish Charlie into the grown-up and proper Charles.

He thought of the young ladies. He had watched them grow up like he would have seen children of his own grow up. They had come to him for comfort, for advice. He had read stories to them, had hidden sweets in his pockets for them, had always been there for them. That was exactly what being a father was like, felt like. He worried for them as if they were his own blood. Whenever life was cruel and unfair to one of them he suffered with them. It was almost the same with Anna, Daisy, Alfred. Had been the same with William and Gwen. They all had parents of their own, he knew that. Nonetheless he was there. He would never let them down. He could never let them down. If he did, Mrs. Hughes would torn him into pieces.

Dear Mrs. Hughes, he thought. How much he depended on her after years of being colleagues. She was his guardian angel as ridiculous as it sounded. She was the one who made sure he didn't work too much – in fact she _tried_ to make sure he didn't work too much, but he was just so bloody stubborn – and she was the one who cared for him when he was ill or upset. He didn't always approve of her actions, god no, but in the end he always had to admit her interfering spared him and everyone else usually the worst. In the dark of his room he even dared to admit that they long had passed the status of being colleagues and reached the one of friends.

Friends, he repeated quietly. The word made him think of that day on the beach. When he had taken her hand it had felt like someone had lifted the weight of the world from his shoulders. In fact it had just been a scratch that went deep into his stern butler façade. He had let go just a bit, acted out of character at least for a while. Things went back to normal afterwards. They always did. He made sure they always would. Life is the acquisition of memories, he had told her once. Many of these memories included her and just before he drifted off to sleep he realized that many moments he had shared with her belonged to the happiest of all of them.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

The wine cellar

Another busy day came to its end when Mrs. Hughes closed her ledgers and turned off the light in her sitting room. She locked the door and checked that everything was in order. There was no light coming from Carson's pantry. A rather unusual thing, but him resting was what she wanted after all. She caught Mrs. Patmore in the kitchen. She was sitting at the small table on the left wall, glasses on, reading through some old recipes.

"You should really go to bed. Remember all the work we have to do tomorrow with that party" Mrs. Hughes said. For once there was no butler to send to bed, but the cook.

Mrs. Patmore stood with a sigh. "Don't remind me of that, please. It will be a nightmare as it is. No reason for me to dream about it."

Mrs. Hughes shook her head at the cook. "Has Mr. Carson gone to bed?" she asked, ignoring Mrs. Patmore's statement.

"No" the cook answered. Mrs. Hughes raised her eyebrows in surprise. Mrs. Patmore pointed down the hall towards the stairs that led to the cellar. "He went to the wine cellar for some reason, mumbling something about the wine ledger not making any sense."

Mrs. Hughes let out a sigh that was partly exasperated, partly angry. What was that man thinking going to the wine cellar for whatever bloody reason at this hour?

"I'm off to bed" Mrs. Patmore declared.

"Good night" Mrs. Hughes replied, her mind already being in the wine cellar, because that was where she headed when Mrs. Patmore had left.

Downton's wine cellar wasn't a comfortable place. It was rather chilly down there. Chilly and dark and just not comfortable. She could hear him and from the sound of clashing bottles she thought about him counting all the bottles or rearranging the whole wine cellar. Because that would be exactly the kind of thing Charles Carson would do at this hour. She didn't bother knocking. As soon as she spotted him behind some shelves, she walked in. He looked up at her, slightly confused by her presence. "Mrs. Hughes?" he said. "What on earth are you doing down here?"

She stood with her hands on her hips like she would do it if he was a maid she had caught. "I was going to ask you the very same, Mr. Carson." She had added an icy undertone to her voice. She wanted him to know that she was angry.

"I found an inconsistency in here" he pointed at the ledger in his hands with his chin "and I wanted to get to the bottom of it." Why exactly was he justifying his presence in the wine cellar? She had no right to question his actions. Well, maybe she had that, but he somehow felt she shouldn't.

"Can't that wait until tomorrow? Besides, you'll catch your death if you stay in here too long" she pointed out.

"Mrs. Hughes" he began, but was cut short by the sound of the door closing and a key turning (or being turned, he couldn't tell). Mrs. Hughes jumped a few inches in the air, almost startled to death. "What in heaven's name…?" she started and turned around to investigate. The door had fallen close (or had been closed, she couldn't tell), but not just that. It was locked. "Mr. Carson, please tell me you have got the key for that damn thing in here" she said, turning to face him.

He swallowed. "I fear I have left the key stuck in the keyhole."

Her jaw dropped a little. "You…" She stopped herself from calling him an oaf. Insulting him would do no good in their current situation.

"Don't you have a key?" he asked.

"No, I don't" she snapped. "And even if I had one it would be useless since the keyhole is being blocked from the other side." She sighed. She had wanted him to rest and now they were both trapped in the bloody wine cellar.

"They know we are here, don't they?"

"Mrs. Patmore knows, but she is upstairs in bed. Exactly where we would be by now if you hadn't decided to come down here."

"Are you saying this is my fault?" he grumbled. "May I remind you that I didn't ask for you to come down here to disturb my work by mothering me… again." He hadn't meant to say that. He didn't mean it at all. He was grateful that she cared about his health since no one else, apparently himself included, did. But it was too late. He had awakened the Scottish dragon. He could tell it from the way her eyes started to sparkle and from her mouth that had turned into a thin line.

"Mothering you?" she repeated. "Mothering you? Call it that if you like, but I daresay someone has to if you wish to live a little longer." Her voice had calmed dangerously, the sound of it threatening him.

His words had hurt her. He knew she did it with only the best for him in mind and after his attack during the war he should know better than judging her for it.

"I can take care of myself" he mumbled, his deep baritone voice making the air vibrating.

She didn't react to that. She was too tired to fight with him now.

He hoped she would forgive him. He hoped she would read him as she always did and know that he was sorry.

She observed him carefully while he put the ledger aside. His shoulders had slumped down a bit. He was tired, she supposed, or he regretted what he had just said. She hoped the latter and decided to make peace. "Well, anyway we are prisoners now. The question is what are we going to do about it?"

He let out a quiet, relieved sigh. Her anger had vanished into thin air, although her Scottish accent was still a little stronger than usual. "I honestly don't know." He dared to look her in the eyes. "I don't think anyone would hear us if we started shouting. We would be hoarse within no time and gain nothing from it. I suggest we try to stay awake and not to get too cold in here."

She nodded in agreement. The thought of having a night ahead of her in which she had not only to stay awake, but on her feet didn't encourage her. She was tired and it was only a matter of time until she would start freezing. The only positive thing about this disaster was that she was with him.

He sighed. The thought of a whole night being awake and being on his feet didn't please him. Of course, he had done it before, but there had never been a big event the next day. At least he hadn't to make sure his eyes stayed open all by himself. At least he had nice company.

…

She had started to shake like a leaf after half an hour. Her tiredness caused her to feel the chilly air more intense than she might have done when she had been fully awake. She wrapped her arms tightly around her, trying to warm herself. It didn't help.

He could see that she was cold. And now he could even hear it. Her teeth had started to clatter. He had to do something about it. He didn't want her to be ill in the morning. He looked around looking for something that he could put around her to make her feel better. He knew that there had to be a blanket somewhere. Until he found that bloody thing he would have to think of something else. She wouldn't approve, he thought. Nevertheless he removed his jacket and approached her quickly. "No, Mr. Carson, there is no need for that" she said, stepping back. He had expected that, but wouldn't give in. "I won't watch you freezing any longer" he made clear, watched her accepting her defeat and helped her into his jacket.

She had no strength to reject his offer any longer. She was desperate to get a bit warmer. His jacket was warm from him wearing it. That warmth – his warmth – sent a shiver down her spine. His scent filled her senses. The collar smelled strongly after his cologne. Another shiver went down her spine. She closed her eyes; the warmth and the smell making her feel like he held her. A loud crack startled her. She searched for Carson, heard him curse from somewhere behind the shelves. Cursing was very unlike him, she thought. "Are you alright, Mr. Carson?"

He appeared again, holding triumphantly a blanket in his hands.

"Wherever did you find that?" she asked.

"It was buried behind one of the empty shelves. No idea why it is here. I only remembered it was there." He took a closer look at it. "I admit it is a bit dusty." He shook the blanket out and a heavy cloud of dust rose from it. He coughed and then sneezed. Once. Twice. "Apologies. It is a bit dustier than I thought."

She laughed at that. If he only knew how absolutely adorable he was. He handed her the blanket and she wrapped it around her. Now it was finally getting warm. But then she struggled keeping her eyes open and what was even worse she struggled to stand. She leaned against the cold wall, sliding down and sitting on the cool floor. The blanket covered her entire body, sleep was upon her. Carson was still standing in the middle of the wine cellar. She could feel his gaze on her. When she looked at him she could see him shaking. He was freezing. Of course he was. She was wearing his jacket. "Mr. Carson, sit down. The blanket is big enough for both of us. I wouldn't want you to catch your death."

Again she made an offer that was not meant in the tiniest improper way; still he thought it sounded risqué. But he didn't mind really. Not at this hour, at this place, in this certain state. He sat down beside her, not too close and accepted the blanket. He almost thought it funny. The butler and housekeeper of Downton locked in the wine cellar, wrapped up in an old dusty blanket, tired and freezing. Hopefully no one would ever hear this story. Mrs. Hughes fell asleep after a while and he had to put his arm around her shoulders to prevent her from falling over. Her head lay securely on his shoulder, her warm breath tingled his neck. Her body was warming his. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt the warmth of another person so comfortable. And then he fell asleep.

She was the first to wake up. There was no way she could tell what time it was and she could hardly check Carson`s pocket watch. That was when she realized it. Her head was lying on his shoulder, his arms he had put protectively around her, one of her hands had fallen to her lap, the other – and she blushed deeply – laid on his thigh just above his knee. She withdrew her hand quickly placing it to her other. But she couldn't get herself to move out of his embrace. She had never been so close to him and now that she was she wanted to stay exactly there. It felt right. She listened to his steady breathing. What would happen if he woke up? Would he be angry? Embarrassed? Sorry? She could stand the first two, but she would be heartbroken if he felt sorry. After all these years the last thing he should feel about this was sorry. All three would possibly await her.

He woke up and immediately felt that something wasn't right. He wasn't lying in his bed and he wasn't alone. The clouds of sleep left. He remembered the wine cellar and Mrs. Hughes. His eyes popped open. He was holding Mrs. Hughes. A huge part of him wanted to jump on his feet and get a proper distance between the two of them, but another part made him remain in that position. He hadn't been close to anyone in years. Not like this. The smell of her hair – lemon and something he couldn't quite identify – filled his senses and he got lost in it. What would she do if she woke up? The thought brought him back to reality. Would she be angry? Embarrassed? Sorry? All three would make him feel awkward.

Mrs. Hughes made the decision that it was best if he never knew how close they had been. She thought he was still sleeping and carefully freed herself from his arms. His eyes stayed shut. He was even more handsome in his sleep. There was an utter satisfaction to be witnessed on his face and all the worrying lines had disappeared. A bold curl had escaped, falling to his forehead. She had to resist the urge to touch his cheek, to put the curl back in place. She watched him, praying that he would come around one day.

He pretended to sleep when he felt Mrs. Hughes moving. He didn't know why she left his embrace, but it was for the best if she didn't know that he had been awake. There would be no argument, no embarrassment and no awkwardness. He waited patiently until a few more minutes had passed. He then opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times. Mrs. Hughes was sitting to his right, greeting him with a small smile on her lips. He smiled back. Neither of them felt a need to break the silence. They had locked eyes, unsure of what the other was thinking. The moment was destroyed by someone unlocking and opening the door. They got up quickly, both sighing as their muscles protested after a night in the floor. Mrs. Patmore was the one that had come to their rescue. The cook looked at them with a knowing look. "There you are. Have you been in here all night?"

"We weren't simply in here, but _locked_ in here" Carson corrected. "And now it is time we get out of here. We are entertaining this evening." With that he left the room in his most gracious butler walk, completely forgetting his jacket Mrs. Hughes was still wearing. Mrs. Patmore pointed at her. "You look nice in that. But isn't it a bit too big?"

Mrs. Hughes took off the jacket, giving Mrs. Patmore a disapproving look and walked towards the door. She stopped. "You keep this accident to yourself, will you?" she asked nicely and was relieved when the cook nodded. What neither Mrs. Hughes nor Carson knew was that it had been the cook who had locked them up to give at least him a little knock in the right direction.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Just a friend

They were having dinner which was a rather awkward occasion for housekeeper and butler.

He had been avoiding her as best as he could the past three weeks since the incident in the wine cellar. They weren't at odds. There had been the usual disagreements, nothing out of the ordinary, but he struggled facing her without acting like a complete fool. He wasn't able to look her in the eyes. If they were standing or sitting close he was reminded of all the thoughts and images that haunted him in the evening when he was lying in bed. Her smell, her leaning against him, everything. It was driving him insane. All these years he had made it through without seeing her as a woman. Why had he started to do so now? He simply wasn't able to deal with that unknown closeness. That was the only explanation he had. If one had experienced something nice once one wanted to experience it again. Ridiculous, he thought. He hadn't needed a woman in the last two decades, he didn't need one now. Besides, he was a butler. He was proud of it. It was his duty to ban all thoughts of women, especially of housekeepers, from his mind. He had no time to waste for longing after her. It was highly improper. Courting her was the most stupid thing he had thought in months. He strengthened the wall he had built to stop all the uncontrollable feelings influencing his thoughts and actions. But has he had so cleverly realized himself: They were uncontrollable, kept driving him insane, kept haunting him until he gave in. He had admitted it to himself in the dark of his room and swore to himself that he would never say it out loud. He had fallen for Mrs. Hughes. Everything that had happened between them since they had met had slowly made him fall in love with her and the only reason he hadn't thought about it before was because it was a move forward. And one never could move forward with an unsolved past behind. But now it was solved and lying well and truly behind him. His eyes opened, seeing everything in a slightly different way. Their friendly evening chatter, their caring for each other. It all made sense now. At least his part in it. He had always opened up a little towards her, because he loved her. And she being a kind woman had taken care of him, acting like a close friend. He glanced at her. What was she thinking? Colleagues? Friends? Did she love him? Never, he thought. He wasn't the kind of man a strong, independent woman like her would fall in love with. He was too much of an old stern stubborn foolish butler. His heart ached at that. But she was at his side every day and she would be there until his death. He could never tell her that he loved her. He would take it to his grave. He would try to be less crabby. He would try to be a friend. Just a friend.

"Mrs. Hughes" he spoke quietly, making her looking up from her plate. "Would you join me tonight for a tea or perhaps a sherry?"

"Certainly, Mr. Carson" she answered much to his relieve and continued with her dinner.

She had been hurt by him avoiding her. After having been so close to him, his behaviour had thrown her back into reality in the cruellest way. She had hoped he would change a bit after Grigg, Alice, the beach, but no. He remained the same. How could she ever have been so foolish as to think he would ever see her as a woman? She should be happy with what they had. It was pointless to hope for more. She would never stop loving him. She decided never to tell him, never to try again cracking his façade. She had to accept that she would always only be his friend. Never his woman. Just a friend.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Thanks a lot for all your lovely reviews! I appreciate your encouragement and support. :-) _**

**_This chapter is from Mrs. P´s point of view and gave me some problems writing it. Please let me know if you liked it. Next one will be from  
Carson/Hughes pov again. I hope to update soon, but school is keeping me busy.  
_**

Chapter 4

What to do

Mrs. Patmore had always thought that Carson and Mrs. Hughes would make a lovely couple. First it had only been the impression they made when they were standing next to each other. It looked right. Then it had been the way they argued. It sounded right. And much later, after having spent huge parts of their lifes together, it was how much they knew about the other. They knew about the others habits. How he liked his tea. How she liked her toast. They knew what the other disliked. That she didn't like atmospheres and he didn't approve change of all form. And no matter how different they were, there were these little things they had in common: Their parental feelings for the youngsters of down- and even upstairs, the little evening chats, their almost daily disagreements they fought like an old couple for they knew exactly what the other one was thinking.

Mrs. Patmore had watched these two for years and for her it wasn't difficult to tell that there was something there. She found out first about Mrs. Hughes feelings. There were loving glances at the dinner table, teasing whenever she had the chance and all the sharp words that fell never were too sharp. She kept an eye on how much he worked. She cared for him when he was ill. It was rather obvious if one just dared to look at it properly.

It had been a lot more difficult to figure out what Carson felt. How he felt about standards, property, traditions and the Crawleys (especially Lady Mary) he would throw in people's face almost every day, but his more intimate feelings were well hidden behind a wall he had built for decades. If it came to that he could stand next to a statue and you wouldn't see the difference.

It took a while until the cook witnessed how his façade cracked. When Mrs. Hughes had had her health scare, Mrs. Patmore didn't miss the wave of emotions that rolled over Carson's face a few times. For the shortest of moments the wall disappeared and Mrs. Patmore knew then that he loved Mrs. Hughes. He loved her and it seemed that he either didn't know or didn't understand that. So the chance of them ending up together completely depended on Carson opening up. Mrs. Patmore knew that Mrs. Hughes would need some help to make that happen. The months before the London season seemed to be the most successful ones in cracking Carson's wall open. Mrs. Hughes even managed to make him hold her hand at the beach. Mrs. Patmore got the message the housekeeper tried to tell him when doing this. But of course he didn't quite get it. And that was the main reason why Mrs. Patmore locked the two in the wine cellar when she had the opportunity. One night to spend together all alone would give them plenty of time to talk. And who knew? Maybe it was easier for Mrs. Hughes to make a tired and freezing Carson understand what she had meant on the beach.

Mrs. Patmore came to free them the next morning. She wasn't as foolish as to think that they were now all of a sudden holding each other, but she took knowledge of the blanket they had obviously shared and of Mrs. Hughes wearing his jacket. Something must have happened that night. Something that might get them together.

What happened the week afterwards was interesting to watch. Mrs. Hughes didn't change in anyway, but Carson did. It all started with pensive glances in her direction which turned into a mixture of confused and sad ones and then finally it were loving glances, sometimes with a bit of happiness or sadness in them. The butler had somehow managed to become aware of his feelings and to understand them which surprised Mrs. Patmore a bit since that man didn't make any sense occasionally.

But just when Carson had made his step, Mrs. Hughes turned into some kind of ghost. The fire left her eyes; there was no more teasing and mothering. No comfort for the maids. No evening chats with either the butler or the cook. It had all gone. That was confusing and alarming to watch. The cook needed a few days to get to the bottom of it. While she saw all these glances clearly, Mrs. Hughes – the one person downstairs who usually never missed a thing – had failed to see them. She had failed to see what she had hoped to happen for so long and now it was there she had stopped hoping and suffered more than before. These two silly people, was all Mrs. Patmore thought.

Once, while the staff was having dinner, Mrs. Patmore observed the two from a dark spot in the hallway, seeing everything they did. Mrs. Hughes was focussing on her plate and Carson gave her concerned glances, the love for her written in them. Mrs. Patmore had to fight the urge to shout: "Look at him. It is all there. All you have hoped for. It is right there in front of you." She didn't dare to do that, but very nearly banged her head against the wall. Frustration had taken a tight grip on her. Getting these two together had developed into her second job and she hated failing at one of her jobs.

A day or two later she was in the kitchen preparing the upstairs luncheon. She had suggested talking to them, but she knew they wouldn't listen or worse: She would embarrass Carson. And what would happen then Mrs. Patmore couldn't know. She thought about locking them up somewhere again. She didn't know else what to do. They needed a miracle. And just then something unexpected, but highly welcomed happened.

Mrs. Hughes was leaving her sitting room right when Carson stormed down the hall probably in search for one of the hallboys to give him the lecture of his life. He bumped into Mrs. Hughes, almost throwing her to the floor. She let out a shocked gasp. He grabbed her arm to steady her. All anger had vanished from his face. The hallboy was forgotten. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes. Are you alright?" He looked her straight in the eyes and there it was: His true emotions written all over his face. Mrs. Patmore could have started dancing where she stood. Mrs. Hughes' facial expression told her that she had seen what the cook had for weeks.

"I'm fine, no need to worry, Mr. Carson" she said. He nodded, his façade reappearing, made his excuses and went back to what he wanted to do before he almost knocked the housekeeper over. Mrs. Hughes watched him disappear down the corridor, smiling a little to herself. When she left, heading the opposite direction Carson had picked, she wasn't that pale anymore and the fire was burning again in her eyes. Mrs. Patmore would have done almost everything to find out what Mrs. Hughes had thought exactly or what she planned to do next. The cook had to accept that she wouldn't find out until a few days had passed, but she already went through several possible scenarios. She had known these two for so long and now victory seemed to be close at last.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Thanks again for your lovely reviews. :-) _**

**_This is a Carson/Hughes POV chapter. Enjoy!_**

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Chapter 5

So close and yet so far

There was a soft knock at the door and Carson thought he must have imagined it. He hadn't heard that sound in weeks. Mrs. Hughes had been as lifeless as someone still being alive could be and he had had many sleepless nights worrying about her. She had assured him that everything was fine when he had asked if anything was wrong, but he had never been able to believe her. Much to his relieve she had turned back into the Mrs. Hughes he knew just a few days earlier. Now she entered his pantry with a warm smile on her face which he returned no matter how astonished he was to see her. These past few weeks she hadn't joined him in the evenings as used to be their habit. She approached his desk, stopping right in front of it.

"Are you busy?" she asked, looking at the scattered documents on his desk. He put down his pen.

"Not exactly", he answered. "Just working through some stuff that is barely important. You know me."

"I suppose I do", she replied warmly, an amused smile on her lips.

"Was there anything you wanted to talk to me about?" He watched how she bit her bottom lip before answering.

"I wondered if you would care for a cup of tea."

"Very much" he said honestly and was rewarded with her eyes shining brightly.

"Good, I'll fetch the tea then and you finish your barely important paper work in the meantime." She waved at the documents. He nodded, still smiling. How much he had missed her presence in the evening. He returned to his work when she left to get the tea. He was eager to finish it before she came back. He didn't want to have anything related to work in mind when she would finally talk to him privately since… Well, since he realized how much he loved and needed her.

Mrs. Hughes had been a little nervous when she entered Carson's pantry. She didn't know what to expect. Not after the hallway incident. Seeing him looking at her like _that_ had taken her off guard. It was the last thing she had thought would happen. Of course she had been absolutely happy at first, but soon the nervousness had started. What would happen next? The question had been on her mind permanently. She could foresee his actions as a butler, but when it was just him he was unpredictable. She knew he loved his job and Downton. He was proud of his position. He wouldn't give it up. She didn't really want him to give it up. He needed it to be completely happy. The thought of him suggesting retirement seemed stupid.

_"__I thought I would die here and haunt it ever after_" he had said once. She hoped this wouldn't become true, that he would spend his last days relaxing in a cottage and not working.

And what if he would start courting her? She didn't quite know how to imagine that.

Furthermore, did Carson ever do anything without his lordship's permission? As kind as Lord Grantham was, she doubted that he would accept his butler and housekeeper to be a couple, not to speak of being married.

So would it be retirement for them both? She had never thought of retiring. In fact, she had never really thought about any of the consequences of them having feelings for the other. She had been busy hoping that he would develop feelings. But where to go from there?

In the end she decided that she didn't want any thoughts to spoil her happiness. She had waited for him for so long; she could wait a little longer, give him more time. She would be patiently waiting for him making the next step. And if he struggled she would take his hand to make him feel steady.

She hadn't expected to find Mrs. Patmore in the kitchen when she entered to make tea. The cook was still awake, checking her kingdom.

"Mrs. Hughes", she said surprised when she recognized the housekeeper's presence. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, no, I was just going to make some tea for Mr. Carson and myself", Mrs Hughes answered, starting to do just that.

"I see", Mrs. Patmore replied, walking over to the cupboards, looking for something. Mrs. Hughes watched her with two raised eyebrows while the water started boiling.

"Whatever are you doing?" she asked curiously.

Mrs. Patmore turned around with a plate in her hands. "I was looking for these. They are Mr. Carson's favourites if I remember correctly."

Mrs. Hughes spotted the biscuits. "Indeed they are", she agreed. Mrs. Patmore placed the plate on the table in front of the housekeeper.

"He will be happy to get some without stealing them", she chuckled. "Good night, Mrs. Hughes."

"Good night and thank you", Mrs. Hughes said, smiling to herself. She fixed up a tray and made her way back to Carson's pantry. He had finished his work and took his cup of tea gratefully. He had moved his chair to the front of his desk so that he was sitting closer to Mrs. Hughes.

Mrs. Hughes picked up the plate with the biscuits offering him some. "Mrs. Patmore gave me these for you."

"Wonderful!" he commented and took one. She watched him. He was relaxed, enjoying both, tea and company.

"So", she began. "How are things?" Her question could relate to anything and yet she expected him to talk about work.

"Pretty well. Everything is going smoothly", he answered as expected. He made a short break before he continued. "I'm well too, just being a little old", he joked and she almost dropped her cup. He really had changed.

He had to admit he felt a little odd joking about his age, joking in general, but he wanted to be her friend if nothing else and therefore he forced his wards down, trying new ground. She didn't seem to mind. "And you? How are you, Mrs. Hughes?" he asked seriously, wanting to know what had caused her being so spiritless.

"I'm fine, thank you", she answered.

"Only you seemed to be so…" He hesitated for a moment. What word could he use? "You seemed to be a bit sad lately", he said softly.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Did I? I was only a bit tired, that's all", she answered. There was a glow in her eyes he had never seen before and it made him believe her words. He cleared his throat. "Good. If… If anything should ever be wrong I hope you'll tell me. I'm still on your side. That hasn't changed." It was suddenly very warm in his pantry; he wanted to get rid of his tie and jacket.

"You mean I can always talk to you?" she asked carefully, looking at him almost shyly. He wasn't able to speak, so he simply nodded. I'm always there for you, he thought.

Her heartbeat had reached inhuman dimensions since he had asked her how she was. She could see that he was unsure of how to behave. But the way he talked to her proofed her right: She had to be patient yet. He wasn't ready, but on his way to come around. His eyes told her that. He swallowed hard. He was going to say something that took him a lot of courage to say and she smiled at him reassuringly.

"I'm sure you remember what you said on the beach. That I could always hold your hand if I needed to feel steady."

Now she held her breath and her heart seemed to stop beating.

"I might come back to that offer now and then", he said in earnest, his ears turning red.

"I shall hope so." The words had escaped her lips before she knew what was actually happening.

He stared at her, trying to understand what she had just said. Could it be that…? His heart jumped around wildly in his chest. He was shaking a bit; his mouth was dry; it all felt like a dream.

She could see that there was a lot going on in his mind and she slowly, carefully offered him her hand.

He reached for her hand as soon as she offered it. His was shaking a little, but stopped when hers disappeared in it. The touch calmed his nerves and cleared his senses. She is always there for me, he reminded himself, giving her hand a little squeeze. He couldn't have possibly described what he felt in this long moment of holding hands and getting lost in the other's eyes.

Before either of them could say anything, someone opened the door and disturbed them. They turned their heads towards the door, both blinking as if they had awakened from a dream. They didn't bother letting the other's hand go. A few months earlier they might have jumped apart, but not anymore. His eyes widened in surprise when he spotted little Miss Sybbie at the door. She was hugging her teddy bear closely, looking enormously unhappy.

"Miss Sybbie? Why are you down here?" he asked the young girl who was definitely supposed to be in bed.

"I had a nightmare", she sniffed.

Carson exchanged a look with Mrs. Hughes. Why hadn't the nanny been there to comfort the child? He let go of her hand and offered it Miss Sybbie. "Come here. Tell us about this nightmare."

She hurried towards him. She was in her night dress, barefoot, scared. Carson picked her up and placed her on his lap. She snuggled into him. "I don't remember, but it was scary and when I woke up nanny wasn't there", she told them.

"My, my", Mrs. Hughes said softly. "Then we better tell you a lovely story and put you back to bed."

The girls eyes lightened up and her grip on the teddy bear loosened a bit. "Will you?"

Mrs. Hughes moved closer with her chair. Her knee brushed against his. Instead of moving back like he would have done in the past, he smiled at her. Miss Sybbie waited excitedly for her story. Carson wasn't sure what kind of story Mrs. Hughes would tell her. They had no book to read to her, so she would have to invent one. And that was what she did. She told Miss Sybbie about on old forest somewhere far away and of the animals living there. About their daily lifes and problems. She talked about silly squirrels and singing birds, hardworking moles and a lazy rabbit. She created a colourful story for the little miss who laughed and giggled, because Mrs. Hughes tried to imitate the voices all the animals might have. After a while, Carson was able to join her and took the part of the animals his voice would fit with such as badgers, foxes and bears. It wasn't at all difficult to entertain the child. And just when the squirrels had a disagreement about where to hide their nuts for winter, she yawned and her eyes slowly closed. The two adults spoke quietly now, lulling the child into a deep sleep.

Mrs. Hughes watched the young girl, how comfortable she was on Carson's lap and how safe she seemed to feel. In the past it had been a little difficult to understand why the Crawley sisters – Lady Mary in the first place – were so fond of the butler. He was an adorable big bear when it came to children.

Carson had enjoyed the story telling with Mrs. Hughes and was happy with both her smiling so tenderly at him and the child as with Miss Sybbie sleeping in his arms like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Mrs. Hughes", he whispered. "We should probably put her in bed. The nanny might have already sent a search party."

She agreed with a chuckle and got up. Carson moved carefully not to disturb the sleeping little lady he held. He followed her upstairs to the nursery where the nanny set on a chair, absolutely devastated, apologising to Tom. Apparently she thought that Miss Sybbie was missing in the very opposite of a harmless way.

Mary was with them, the crying little George in her arms. When the two heads of staff entered she smiled, looking at Tom who was slightly confused with both the crying nanny and the picture Carson and Mrs. Hughes made.

"I told you she would have gone downstairs", Mary said quietly. Master George looked at the butler with big eyes and forgot that he was actually unhappy with something. He fell asleep moments later.

Carson put Miss Sybbie to bed, covering her gently with the blanket. The nanny had silenced, seeming to feel incredibly stupid. Mary held her son lovingly, while Tom still struggled to understand what he had just seen. He knew Carson was a good man, even kind sometimes, but him being so at ease with a child was news for Tom.

"These two really seem to be besotted with you both", Mary said. "I hope you will be there for them for another few years at least. They will need someone who is not called Crawley now and then."

Mrs. Hughes and Carson exchanged an amused smile, bit the two a good night and exited the room quietly. On their way back downstairs they both felt the same way without knowing the other did. Even though they weren't married and had no children or grandchildren of their own, they felt like parents and grandparents, while together even more than when being alone.

Back in his pantry they agreed that they should go to bed. After putting the tray in the kitchen they went upstairs together, stopping at the door that would separate them.

She looked him in the eyes. He held her gaze. For a long moment they stayed like this. Two people in love with a long and complicated way ahead.

"Good night, Mrs. Hughes", he said finally.

"Good night, Mr. Carson."

Downton kept them so close together and yet so far away from each other.

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_**Please leave a review if you have got the time.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm terribly sorry for the delay and hope you're still with me.**

**The next update could take some time thanks to school. **

**Thanks for sticking with me. :-) Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 6

Home alone

Carson was hiding. He knew it was somewhat ridiculous. He wasn't a little boy anymore, but when everyone downstairs was against him he had no choice, but to flee to his pantry.

He had started to polish the sliver and had paid attention to all the noise coming from outside. And there was a lot of noise. The family had left Downton after luncheon to visit a garden party on another estate and Lord Grantham had given the staff the afternoon off. Since this had been an official announcement, there was nothing Carson could have done to stop everyone from making plans. The air in the servant's hall had been so full with chatter that Carson had had a terrible headache moments after entering. Mrs. Hughes had been sitting next to him as always, smiling happily at the excitement that had taken control of the younger ones. Finally Mrs. Patmore had silenced everybody by suggesting a picnic at the lake and there had been no stopping them. They had packed up their things and Carson had fled to his pantry.

He didn't want to spoil anyone's fun, so he decided to stay behind. He wouldn't be missed. No one would look for him and he could get some work done in the quiet. But while he was polishing the silver and he heard everyone going through the back door, he realized that there was one person downstairs who cared for him and who would come looking for him. His movements slowed. He heard her footsteps outside the door, heard her keys how they clashed against her hip, could picture her in every detail. Her perfectly pinned up hair. Her simple dress that always pronounced her lovely curves no matter the amount of layers woman's fashion included. Then there was the soft knock at the door and she entered.

He was standing in the middle of his pantry, a piece of sliver in one hand, the other holding the polishing cloth, a very absentminded expression on his face. "I knew you'd be in here", she said. "Won't you come to the lake with the others?"

He looked up at her. "I would make them uncomfortable" he pointed out, restarting the polishing.

"Certainly not. You were there when we all visited the beach and no one was uncomfortable", she reminded him. "Be honest, Mr. Carson. You only want to work."

He sighed. "I'll admit that."

She studied his face. It seemed that there was more behind that distanced behaviour to freetime than she knew at the moment and she wanted to know what else there was buried under his uniform. "Can I ask you something?"

He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly.

She bit her bottom lip, hoping that he wouldn't be angry with her. "I wonder why you always try to avoid having a bit off freetime. What is it that terrifies you so much about enjoying yourself?"

He stared at her, taken aback by her question, direct and shameless, maybe even improper, but he was still glad she asked. It assured him that she cared. She if no one else and he had reached the point where he would just be thankful for that. And he would answer her honestly. No avoiding the facts this time. No lies or silence about the truth. No, this time he would answer her. "I'm used to be Carson, the butler. Freetime doesn't fit into that role. Freetime always pushes me to be Charles again, but I… I haven't been him in a while, so I try to avoid it. To avoid him. He was quite foolish and I don't mean to mess things up by being him." He ended, staring at her. Her expression hadn't changed during his speech that hadn't made too much sense to him. But he didn't know how else to put it. He felt panic rise in him when she remained standing there, looking at him and saying nothing. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded warm and comforting.

"Mr. Carson, you will most certainly not mess up anything by being you. I understand that there is a difference between Carson and Charles as there is between Mrs. Hughes and Elsie, I can tell you, but why on earth would Charles mess things up? Why would he be foolish? Because if I may say so, Mr. Carson, the butler is capable of these things just as well." She looked at him, an amused sparkle in her eyes. She had seen so many glimpses of Charles in the last decades that she had been able to put the puzzle together. She was sure she knew quite a lot about him by now and she loved both Mr. Carson and Charles. There was only a small wall between the two and how often had he broken through? His soft spot for the young ladies and the little ones of upstairs, his caring for the youngsters downstairs, his singing when he had been told she wasn't ill, his adorable behaviour on the beach and not to forget that evening in his pantry when Miss Sybbie had paid them an unexpected visit. Didn't he know that? Wasn't it as obvious as she thought?

Had she just told him that he was foolish and messed things up? He was about to let his temper take over him when he realized how right she was. His love for traditions and his hate for change had caused quite a few messed up moments in which he indeed had appeared like a fool. And him not realizing that was even more evidence for him being a fool. From her words he understood that she didn't mean the sad old fool he feared of being, but a nice old fool who she had learnt to handle. "You are right, Mrs. Hughes", he said. "I guess, I only don't want to lose my authority by showing them my softer side."

"They all know about that one", she pointed out gently. "You let it slip a few times."

"Have I?", he said, knowing that he had. She nodded in response. "So, have you changed your mind about going to the lake then?", she asked hopefully.

He could see that she wanted him to go with her and his heart told him to do just that. But there was another voice in his head who told him to take advantage of everyone being gone and he listened to that voice for the first time in a long time. "Yes, I have, although I would prefer it not to go right away."

She raised her eyebrows, confused by his statement. What was he talking about?

"I thought about spending an hour or so here in private", he explained, a hopeful expression on his face.

"I don't know how, but you managed to make that sound a little risqué", she repeated his words from the beach which fitted perfectly into their current situation. She watched how the shock waved over his face. "I meant to have a chat… like the ones we have in the evenings", he stammered.

Mrs. Hughes smiled warmly at him. "If that's so I shall have no objection."

He led out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Give me a moment to order things in here. I'll join you in your sitting room shortly."

She nodded and left him. He had locked away the silver in no time and used a few minutes to cool down. He needed to free himself from all improper thoughts the word risqué had put into his mind. When he was satisfied with the focus of his thoughts, he left his pantry and knocked at the door of her sitting room. He entered without waiting for an answer. She sat at her desk and turned to face him. She placed her hands in her lap. "Well, have a seat, Mr. Carson, and tell me whatever it was you thought of telling me."

He moved the free chair as close as he dared to her and sat down. He took a deep breath. "To be honest, Mrs. Hughes, I didn't think of any particular thing to talk about. I had hoped we could start a conversation just like that."

She relaxed where she sat and studied his face. He seemed to have let down his wards. His behaviour changed more and more with every day that passed. "Would you allow me to ask you something?"

He knew she wanted to ask a personal question. But she wanted to do so without making him angry or feeling offended. _She is your friend_, he reminded himself. _She may ask whatever she wishes too._ "Please ask, Mrs. Hughes, but try to find a not so shocking way of doing so", he teased, alluding to her usual direct way of speaking.

She gave him a warning glance, but he could tell from her eyes that she liked the fact that he for once teased her and not the other way around. "You always say that your past on the stage is a part of your life you prefer to forget and I understand you so far as that we have all experienced things we like to ban from our thoughts, but something tells me that you are not entirely honest. That you have enjoyed it to some point. I'd like to know your true feelings about it."

She knew him too well. He was an open book to her and she read it, always trying to figure out a way to help him. His behaviour seemed to have encouraged her to be fully open in his presence. At least he had achieved that. "I wouldn't say I prefer to forget that I was a Cheerful Charlie once now. Not after that business with Grigg and Alice solved itself. Stage always reminded me of her and my broken heart so I didn't think about it. But now you have made me heal and I can actually smile about the silliness of my youth."

_I healed him_, she thought deeply touched. _He thinks I healed him._ It took all her willingness to keep her composure. She was close to tears. A few weeks ago he would have never said such a thing, whether it was true or not. She blinked away the tears. "Tell me about this silliness", she teased.

He leaned back thinking of the right story to tell her. "We didn't only sing and dance", he admitted then. "Some of our singing acts required a bit more than dancing to really entertain anybody. We would use ridiculous hats, umbrellas and walking sticks to extend the simple stuff we started with. I even learnt to juggle. We developed into a two man circus."

She giggled when he mentioned the juggling. "You can juggle? My, my, what a sight that must be now." She couldn't help, but picture him juggling the silver. He would never do such a thing with the precious silver, but the image was clear and amusing.

"I haven't done it for years. Would you like me to try?"

She stopped her giggling and raised her eyebrows at him. She couldn't believe that he would really do that. "Go ahead", she said and he got up, disappearing in the hallway, returning with a few apples from the kitchen. "Now", he said excited like a school boy. She watched while he picked three apples and threw them in the air. He was indeed able to juggle.

He had to focus not to miss the falling apples, but after a few moments he relaxed a little and started humming. He remembered the tune, but not the lyrics. He caught the apples when the song was over and bowed a little towards Mrs. Hughes. She was biting her bottom lip not to laugh out loud about the adorable sight he had just offered her. "Almost three decades and you are still able to surprise me, Mr. Carson."

He smiled a smile that reached his eyes. "Three decades", he sighed. "Unbelievable that we have never truly used our first names."

"That is not entirely true. When I was head housemaid you used mine", she reminded him.

"For a year, yes, but look at us now. We have long passed the status of colleagues, haven't we? We are friends." They had locked eyes and she got up from her chair to stand in front of him.

"That we are", she agreed. "And you may use my first name if you like when we are alone. I don't mind."

"As much as I'd liked to accept this offer, I don't think I could ever get used to calling you Elsie." He was standing too close, again. And again he couldn't care less. Her scent filled his senses and his mind stopped working. She was the only thing he was paying attention to. Every fibre of his being was focused on her.

She could smell his cologne and felt the warmth that came from his body. They were only inches away from each other. She raised her hands and placed them gently on his chest. "Charles", she whispered, her emotions collapsing above her like a huge wave, leaving her helplessly controlled by them. He whispered her name in return, sending shivers down her spine with his deep voice. Their breaths were entangled and Mrs. Hughes already closed her eyes in anticipation of his lips. He had lowered his face to hers, the urge to kiss her overwhelming him. He moved his hands to rest on her hips and draw her closer, but a loud noise coming from the kitchen made them jump apart. Both their hearts were beating faster, millions of thoughts crashed down on them, but a second bang helped them to regain their composure. They exchanged looks, ready to give whomever they would find in the kitchen the lecture of his life, not because of the noise or the fact that he was in the kitchen, but because he had destroyed one of the most precious moments they had ever shared.

They stormed to the kitchen, both stopping at the door. It hadn't been a person disturbing them, but a hungry cat that messed up Mrs. Patmore's tidy and clean kitchen. Mrs. Hughes was even more frustrated then and swore to herself that she would throw the cat outside herself.

Carson couldn't quite decide whether he should join the cat in destroying the kitchen or if he should grab it and throw it to Isis. Thanks to that filthy thing Mrs. Hughes and he found themselves at the exact same point of the path where they had left of after putting Miss Sybbie to bed. God knew when they would find the time and courage to take the next step again. It had happened all by itself and now he was back in reality and unsure of basically everything. Her feelings and thoughts, whether he should have overstepped the line and whether he should regret his actions. He became once more aware of how low his desire was to retire and that would mean no next step.

He stiffened. A sign that the butler was back and Charles buried under him. He had wanted to kiss her and god knew when he would try that again. She could have no doubts about his feelings for her anymore, but many about his acting on them. Now that this moment of overstepping the line was over it all depended on her once more. She would have never guessed that things could turn out to be so complicated between them.

"Where does _that_ come from?", he growled, gesturing towards the cat.

"It must have entered through an open window or door", she replied.

The cat was grey and stood on the kitchen table, staring at them.

"How do we get it outside?", she asked then.

"Either we catch it or I get Isis to hunt it", he grumbled.

"I don't think the dog would be of much help. She isn't the youngest anymore."

Carson moved slowly towards the cat. It followed his movements and when he had almost reached it, it jumped on the floor and stormed away through his legs. Mrs. Hughes blocked the door so it ran around the table and stopped in front of the oven. Carson followed. He knew he couldn't catch a cat, but his anger kept him going. In the end the cat disappeared somewhere in the hallway, Carson running after it. Mrs. Hughes stayed behind to clear up the mess. When he returned that one curl had escaped and his face was reddened. He breathed heavily. She should have laughed or teased him, but she didn't feel like it. She wanted the moment back he had stood close, hands on her hips, meaning to kiss her. She had longed for any kind of action from him towards her and didn't want to let an opportunity slip. Her steps were uncertain, she struggled holding his gaze. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, but he pushed her away gently. "I can't", he whispered. "Not yet."

She thought she would pass out. He had changed his mind and what chance was there of him changing it again? Her pain was written all over her face.

He felt guilty; his heart ached at the sight of her pain. He felt the need to explain himself. To assure her that he loved her. To assure her that he wouldn't ignore the life they could have outside of Downton. He just wasn't ready to leave. "I'm sorry, Elsie", he said, her name feeling strange on his tongue. "Please be patient with me."

She bit back the tears. He had given her hope. At least he had done that. "I will try to be, Charles", she replied, her voice shaking a little.

He offered her his arm. "Let's join the others and tell Mrs. Patmore about the cat. She will be absolute furious, don't you think?"

She accepted his arm. "She will be, but when I tell her about you running around hunting that thing she will die of laughter."

He chuckled. "We can't have that, Mrs. Hughes. We would all starve."

"Have a little faith in Daisy and Sophie, Mr. Carson", she told him as they left through the backdoor. It was butler and housekeeper again, stuck on the path to their happy ending.

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**Sorry for giving the cat the part of the ****_villian_****. I usually love cats and I'm sure Carson & Mrs. Hughes don't mind them too. :)**

**Please leave a review if you have got the time. Thanks in advance!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Quick update before I drown in school stuff. Thanks for your lovely reviews! Hope you enjoy :-)**

Chapter 7

Family

While they were walking slowly and in silence toward the lake, Mrs. Hughes had regained full control of her emotions and watched him from the corner of her eye. He was staring ahead, no signs of any emotions on his face. Only their linked arms assured her that she was walking next to a person and not a moving statue. She wondered what exactly happened between them at the moment. For years they had been the same and now all of a sudden things started to roll. They rolled, but in the exact opposite way of smoothly. Somehow he had become aware of his feelings for her. She didn't know when it had happened. Had it been the beach where she had dared to give him a little knock in her direction? Had it been that odd incident in the wine cellar? It certainly must have happened before the night Miss Sybbie had appeared in his pantry. Because that night he had made a step towards her. He had held her hand. So if he had been unaware of his feelings before, from there one he must have known. Of course he wouldn't dare speaking to her, but what was going on in that bloody mind of his? The stronger the feelings the more painful to not act on them. She knew that. And she wanted to spare him the suffering she had lived through for years. For heaven's sake, he had almost kissed her and she him and now they were walking next to each other in this awful silence. She stopped abruptly, freeing her arm from his. He turned to her. Concern, surprise and confusion in his eyes. "Mrs. Hughes?"

"I don't understand you", she said, making his confusion grow. "I don't understand anything anymore. What is even going on?"

She was definitely talking about his behaviour earlier and her reaction just minutes ago. He wanted to run as quickly as possible, but was rooted to the spot. He didn't want to talk. If he talked with her now, he was forced to move on. This all happened too fast. He loved her and of what he knew she loved him which was all he could wish for, but at the same time feared most. It made everything complicated and he would most certainly ruin things. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes", he said, because he couldn't think of anything else to answer.

"What?" She was confused, angry, sad or with other words: She suffered from a heart ache only love could course.

"We obviously like each other a lot and this will lead to a few complications if…"

"A few complications? Are you talking about an unexpected dinner party or our feelings?", she asked angrily.

"You know what I mean. And you know that I'm not the right person to deal with it", he replied helplessly.

"You have to deal with it, Charles, because it has to do with you as much as with me! I understand that this is not easy, but we have to talk about it."

"Why should we talk about it? It is obvious where this leads to. If we want to go on, on that path we have revealed somehow, we end up being retired in a cottage. Do you want this? Because I don't! I need my work and so do you."

"This is not the only possibility we have", she snapped back.

"It is if you might take a look at the rules we have to follow. Or are you considering an affair now? Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous, Charles Carson, I'm being disappointingly human. I have worked all my life and cared for others. Now I want to be selfish for a change and enjoy the years I have left. I had hoped you would accompany me, but if you don't want to: Fine, then I'll go alone and live in a cottage." She couldn't remember having ever been so terribly hurt by anyone's actions.

"Elsie", he began, hoping that using her first name would help him clear up the mess he had made. "You know me better than anyone. I struggle with change, but I'm ready to consider it if you'll be patient with me. I need you, so please don't leave. Try to stand me and my stubbornness a little longer." He couldn't lose her, because he was stuck with his daily routine. That wasn't worth losing her.

"I'll only say this once Charles: I need you too, but I won't always wait until you find the courage to take my hand." She watched how he tried to calm. Whatever he was thinking, she hoped that deep inside he knew she hadn't meant any of the things she had said about leaving on her own. If it was more torture of being close to him then she would stand it. That was still better than being without him.

"I understand", he finally said and offered her his arm.

"I don't think you do", she replied, but ended the conversation by accepting his arm and walking close to him towards the staff who were enjoying themselves half a mile ahead. The two of them were still stuck, but at least they had spoken their minds for once. He feared retirement and felt to be needed at Downton. She felt almost the same except that retirement didn't scare her. To both their relief they could forget about the problem that had built between them and enjoy the afternoon at the lake.

**…**

When Sophie entered the servant's hall, Mrs. Hughes and Anna were both missing and Carson kept an eye on the hallway, thanking the kitchen maid absentminded for serving breakfast. It was very unusual for Mrs. Hughes to miss breakfast. He couldn't deny that he was worried. There probably would be a perfectly simple explanation why the housekeeper wasn't present, but Carson remained tense. He had barely touched his porridge and already got odd glances from Thomas, but before the under-butler could make a nasty comment, Anna entered and took her seat. "Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes has been taken ill. She asked me to take over some of her duties."

His stern façade dropped for a second. Ill? Mrs. Hughes was never ill. Had never been ill, not in all the years he knew her. She only had once been seeing the doctor and that was when she had thought to suffer from cancer. He couldn't ban his concern from his face and he didn't bother trying, but he had to regain his role as butler. "Has Dr. Clarkson been informed?", he asked.

Anna shook her head. "Mrs. Hughes said there would be no need for that."

Carson nodded, hiding all the worries deep inside him. Mrs. Hughes wouldn't tell anyone if she really was awfully unwell. She wouldn't want to be pitied or those close to her to be too worried. He hoped she knew that didn't work with him. He would always worry about her. He had never forced her to talk to him about private things, just tried to help her somehow, but after he had almost kissed her and she him he had a right to ask, hadn't he? They were much closer now even though they disagreed on how to proceed. Carson wanted to make sure she was alright. He would care for her as she did for him when he was ill. It wasn't proper for the butler to enter the women's quarters, but there wouldn't be more consequences than a few stupid comments coming from Thomas. He could stand that. Carson left the servant's hall, headed to the kitchen and almost bumped into Mrs. Patmore who was carrying a tray with fresh tea and toast.

"Sorry", he apologized and pointed at the tray. "Is that for Mrs. Hughes?"

"Yes", Mrs. Patmore replied. "Just in case she feels like eating."

"That is very thoughtful of you. Would you mind if I take it up to her?"

Mrs. Patmore could hardly believe her ears. Did Carson really plan to go into Mrs. Hughes bedroom? She swallowed every comment that popped into her mind and handed him the tray. "Go up then."

"I will." He left, hurrying upstairs to the attic rooms. No one had seen him. Mrs. Patmore wouldn't tell anyone and he wouldn't have to stand any awkwardness downstairs. The women's quarters were deserted and he knocked softly at the door of Mrs. Hughes room. He had almost never been in this part of the house, but he knew it as well as any of the others. There was no answer so he knocked again. He couldn't enter without permission. She would be in her night dress and he didn't want to run into anything. Still no answer. "Mrs. Hughes, are you alright?", he asked. Silence. He took a deep breath. There were only two possibilities. One: She was asleep. Two: She was so unwell that she couldn't answer him. He prayed that number one was true. He opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind him. Her room looked exactly like his, only the personal belongings made a difference. She was lying on the bed, under her blanket and was terribly pale. He was at her side with two long strides and put the tray on the bedside table. "Mrs. Hughes?" He checked her temperature. She was burning. "Mrs. Hughes, can you hear me?" He sat down on the bed trying to make her aware of his presence. How could Anna have left her like this? She definitely needed a doctor. "Mrs. Hughes, I'll go and call Dr. Clarkson. I'll be back shortly."

She didn't answer. He felt horrible leaving her, but what choice did he have? He hurried downstairs, telephoning the doctor who promised to be there soon. Carson didn't waste a moment after he had put down the phone, gave Thomas instructions to replace him at breakfast upstairs and climbed the stairs once again. Mrs. Hughes wasn't any better when he returned to her room. He sat down beside her and took her hand in his. He had no idea how to help her. He had never taken care of anyone who was ill. There had always been others. It frustrated him, but when he saw how she opened her eyes he hid his frustration and tried to look at her reassuringly.

"Charles", she said, her voice barley a whisper.

"It's alright. Dr. Clarkson is on his way. You'll be fine."

"What are you doing here?", she managed to say.

"I hoped you would know that", he mumbled. _I love you. I want you to be all right._

She squeezed his hand. "Sorry." She felt pretty bad. Much worse then she had felt when Anna had checked on her. Thank god that Carson was with her and had informed the doctor. Him being there, sitting next to her on the bed and holding her hand made her believe that she was right to hope. If she decided to retire - and at the moment she really wanted to do so – there was a very good chance that she would be Mrs. Carson then or at least planning to become her. She studied Carson's face. A painful worried expression dominated his features.

"How are you feeling?", he asked.

"Not too good", she admitted. "Everything hurts and my blood is boiling."

"I hope it is nothing serious."

"Don't worry", she told him.

How could he not worry? She looked a bit livelier than earlier, but she was still ill. Work would drag him away from her sooner or later and he already felt its tight grip on him growing. He would stay with her until Dr. Clarkson arrived and then he would fulfil his bloody duties and check on her whenever he had a moment to spare. _If we were retired I could stay all day and make sure she's all right,_ he thought. And that was when all the advantages of being retired started to haunt him. It made things worse rather than better. He wanted to stay in his position, but he longed for a peaceful life with her at his side. He shook his head to get rid of all thoughts concerning the matter. Her well-being mattered now; he could worry about the future later.

She could sense that something bothered him, but the fever had a heavy effect on her. It made her mind unfocused and her body weak. When Dr. Clarkson arrived she barley heard Carson's voice telling her that he would check on her again later and she took the medicine the doctor gave her without knowing what he had said about her health.

Carson had gone downstairs and had left the door to his pantry open. Dr. Clarkson would leave through the back door, so the butler wanted to catch him when he walked by. He was surprised when he found Dr. Clarkson standing in the door, asking Carson if he could spare a moment.

"Certainly", he answered and the doctor closed the door.

Carson watched him closely, trying to find any signs in the doctor's appearance that told him about Mrs. Hughes illness.

"I won't be taking much of your time, Mr. Carson. I just wanted to let you know that Mrs. Hughes has the flu and should rest the next few days. There is no need to worry about the fever. It should be gone the day after tomorrow if it lasts that long at all. I have placed some medicine on the bedside table and hoped you could make sure she takes it. Three drops in the evening and in the morning should do the trick."

Relief washed over Carson. It was nothing serious, just the typical flu that visited the house once in a while. "Thank you for informing me. I will take care of her then." He couldn't deny that he sounded like a husband talking about his wife, but that was how he felt. The doctor raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, simply nodded and bid the butler a good day. Carson dealt with the wine delivery and went over the menus for tonight's dinner before luncheon. He finished early and asked Mrs. Patmore for a tray for Mrs. Hughes. She prepared some soup for the housekeeper and made him two sandwiches.

Mrs. Hughes was half asleep when she heard Carson's knock. She murmured in response to make him enter and was very grateful that he interpreted the nonsense that had escaped her mouth correctly.

"Feeling any better?", he asked, placing the tray next to where the doctor had left the medicine.

"Not really", she replied weakly, smelling the soup. She wasn't too hungry, but a bit of warm food would do no harm. But when she tried to use the spoon, the fever made her feeble and she let it drop. The curse didn't escape her lips for she was slightly embarrassed to have done that in front of Carson.

He hadn't to think twice when she dropped the spoon. He took it and held it for her. He could see that she wanted to protest, but something stopped her and she accepted with a blush him feeding her. A small smile spread across his face. The blush made her look less ill and he made her eat every bit of the soup. When she had finished he drove his attention to his own meal and ate the sandwiches.

She enjoyed his company and appreciated it very much. He made her feel like she already was Mrs. Carson. It felt good to know that he would look after her if she needed him. Not that she had ever thought he would let her down, but sometimes she had doubted that he was on her side. She had taken so many insults from him that she sometimes felt like slapping him, but in the end he was always there to support her.

"How is it downstairs without me?", she asked.

He swallowed a huge bite of sandwich. "Not the same, but Anna is a great help."

Mrs. Hughes nodded. She was aware of the fact that she made automatically sure that the blanket covered her properly, but she felt neither any discomfort nor was she embarrassed. Not only because she loved him and because of that never really minded his presence, but because she knew that he had similar feelings for her. It was like her husband was sitting with her, watching over her.

"I was glad to hear from Dr. Clarkson that you will feel better soon", he remarked after finishing his meal.

"I was too", she said, smiling a little.

"I should get back downstairs. And you better go back to sleep."

She closed her eyes in response and her smile grew wider when Carson rearranged her blanket carefully before picking up the tray and leaving the room.

He headed toward the kitchen to get rid of the tray. When he reached the door someone stormed outside and ran him over. Had he been less tall and strong he would have fallen. He managed to remain on his feet by waving with his arms for balance. As a consequence the tray fell to the ground, the plates crashing on the stone floor. "What on earth…?", he began to shout angrily, but stopped when he realised that it had been Sophie who had bumped into him. She was a good girl who had never caused any trouble so he wondered what had gotten into her. Especially when she murmured an excuse and ran away. He wanted to follow, but Mrs. Patmore got a hold of his arm. "Leave her alone, please. She has had some bad news."

He stared at the cook, still angry about the accident. "No reason to behave like this", he pointed out.

Mrs. Patmore rolled her eyes at him, spotted Raff coming from the boot room and waved at the footman to come to her. "Raff, be a good lad and see if you can find Sophie. Something has happened and she better not be alone out there."

Raff seemed to ask for more information, but Carson's angry look made him hurry to do as the cook had told him. When he disappeared around a corner, Carson freed his arm from Mrs. Patmore's grip. "Since when has the cook the authority to command a footman?"

Another eye roll. "Mr. Carson, Sophie has had a letter from her father telling her that her mother has died. The poor girl is absolutely devastated. She needs someone to talk to and comfort her and since Raff is a good lad and her friend I allowed myself to _command_ him."

Carson had nothing to reply to that, so he simply let out an angry grumble and stormed in his pantry, slamming the door behind him, leaving Mrs. Patmore to clean up the tray and what was left of the plates. He was sorry for Sophie for losing her mother, but with Mrs. Hughes being ill he already had enough to deal with and left the girl to the cook and Raff.

After having served dinner upstairs, he wanted to take up something to eat to Mrs. Hughes, but Mrs. Patmore had already done that and told him that the housekeeper was sleeping. He decided not to disturb her and stayed in his pantry to finish some paper work. When he had finished, he went to the backdoor to lock it. He decided to get some fresh air before going to bed and stepped outside. It was a bit chilly, but he didn't mind. It cooled his mind. It was after a few moments that he realised he was not alone. Someone was sitting on the ground leaning against the wall of the house, sobbing into the hands. It was Sophie. He didn't want it to happen, but his wards fell and he moved towards her, carefully, not to startle her. "Sophie?", he said gently. She immediately jumped to her feet and stroked away the tears.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. I shouldn't have run off like that earlier. I promise it won't happen again. Please don't…" She was cut off by a silencing move of his hand.

"I'm sorry about your mother. I understand that this must have been quite a shock." He could see that she was shaking, desperately biting back tears. He knew what she was going through. He had lost his mother too and it had been as unexpected as the death of Sophie's mother probably was. "May I ask how she died?"

Sophie was kneading her hands. "It was an accident in the factory." Now the tears were falling again. "I haven't seen her for a few months and now she is dead."

Carson couldn't take it any longer. He had overstepped the line when he had comforted Lady Mary and of course when he had almost kissed Mrs. Hughes. So he wouldn't have any trouble with his conscience if he supported Sophie. He could sense her surprise when he hugged her fatherly as he had done with Lady Mary, but it didn't take long until she buried her face at his shoulder and cried her pain out. "There, there", he whispered comfortingly and tightened his grip on her shoulders a little to show her that she wouldn't be left alone with her grief. When he thought that she had calmed enough he let her go and handed her his handkerchief. She dried her eyes and took a deep breath. "Thank you", she said quietly and gave the handkerchief back. He gave her a small reassuringly smile and led her back to the house. He locked the backdoor behind them.

"Good night, Mr. Carson", she said.

"Good night." He watched her as she climbed the stairs and disappeared in the half dark. He didn't know her as long as most of the others living under this roof, but she was like a daughter to him anyway. Of course not like Lady Mary or Anna who he had known longest. Nonetheless he was the father of the youngsters downstairs. Of all of them.

He wanted to head upstairs when he heard a chair being moved in the kitchen. He sighed. If the evening continued like this he would never arrive in bed. To his surprise it was Mrs. Hughes sitting at the kitchen table, having a cup of tea.

"Elsie, what are you doing here?" So much of the never getting used to calling her Elsie matter.

She startled at the sound of his voice, but smiled at him when he sat down next to her. "I felt like coming downstairs to make myself a cuppa."

"What about the fever?", he asked sceptical.

"Almost gone." She sipped her tea. "How is Sophie?"

"Not too well", he replied. "Who told you?"

"Mrs. Patmore. Do you think there is anything we should do? Could do?"

"First we let her go to the funeral. Afterwards we can hardly do anything else than show her that we won't let her down."

She smiled at his words. "You don't think it improper? To behave like a family."

"No", he answered honestly. "There is no point in pretending we are not. And to be honest that is the only reason I have left to stay." He looked sad and she took his hand, stroking over the back of it with her thumb.

"You are right", she said. "We can't leave our family."

"Not yet", he corrected. "But that doesn't change anything between us, does it?", he asked worriedly, squeezing her hand to make clear what he meant. She put her second hand on top of his. "No. Things between us will stay like this."

He waited patiently until she had finished his tea, then he accompanied her upstairs. They stopped at the door that would separate them for the night. Mrs. Hughes turned to him to say good night and was surprised when he kissed her on the cheek and held both her hands for a moment. He left, leaving her in a happy mess. If she hadn't been ill, she would have never managed to sleep that night.

The next day the fever was gone completely and she got dressed to check on things downstairs. She wouldn't be long, just taking some of the paper work from her sitting room to her bedroom to get it done. She stopped in the kitchen, taking Mrs. Patmore aside. "How is Sophie?", she asked, looking over to the girl who was busy with helping Daisy to prepare luncheon.

"Better, thanks to Mr. Carson", the cook replied.

Mrs. Hughes furrowed her brows questioningly.

"She told me that he gave her some fatherly comfort after finding her crying outside", Mrs. Patmore explained.

"Did he?", Mrs. Hughes said. That must have happened before he found her in the kitchen, she thought. And it explained his talking about behaving like a family.

"I knew the man is a softie, but anyways: That was a kind gesture", the cook commented.

"Indeed it was. I'm sure Sophie is very grateful to know that even the grumpy old bear is on her side."

Mrs. Patmore giggled. "She is and I'm grateful too. He seems to be good at playing the father."

Mrs. Hughes agreed with a nod, although she knew that he wasn't playing the father exactly. He felt like one. "I better get on", she excused herself and after having taken the paper work she had headed for downstairs she looked for him in his pantry. He was sitting at his desk, giving her a disapproving look when she entered. "You should be in bed. You still have the flu. It is not doing any good that you are downstairs."

"I'll be gone in a minute, even though I have to tell you that I feel much better today. I got the worst behind me already."

"You haven't come here to tell me that, have you?", he said and watched her as she walked around his desk.

"No, I have come to thank you for _all_ you did yesterday," she answered and then she took him off guard by kissing him sweetly on the cheek. He couldn't help, but grin at her. "_All_ I did? I didn't do that much."

"You only don't know that I know", she answered warmly before leaving him.

He kept looking at the door for a while after she had left, thinking about what she had meant. It dawned on him after a few minutes that she knew about his attempt to help Sophie. He shook his head, smiling to himself. They really did behave like a family, worrying and caring about each other and it was a riddle to him how he could have missed that for all these years. Somehow that was a compromise on this newly discovered path.


End file.
